Social Planning
by truglasgowgal
Summary: Puck being in juvie was an unnecessary inconvenience on the road to winning Nationals, so naturally Rachel was the one to come up with a plan to get them back on track.


Wow, ok, I've barely written anything for this fandom in so long, so let's hope I'm not too out-of-touch ;)

Hope you enjoy…

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**Title:** Social Planning  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. 'Tis a crying shame indeed.  
**WARNING:** Puck's mind is not a clean place to inhabit – therefore this is rated for his lewd thoughts and cursing!  
**Summary:** Puck being in juvie was an unnecessary inconvenience on the road to winning Nationals, so naturally Rachel was the one to come up with a plan to get them back on track.

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"_You were born to win, but to be a winner, you must plan to win, prepare to win, and expect to win."  
_**_Zig Ziglar_**

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"Ok, first of all, no one is to know about this," she told him, staring down at him with an unflinching gaze.

He nearly laughed in her face at the attempt; had she even _looked_ at the size of the other guys in the room? He was a badass, but those dudes were off-the-freakin'-chain. Not even Berry's crazy-in-a-bottle could compare to their beat-down; and he still hadn't got his nipple ring back. Bastards.

He schooled his features, and squared his shoulders; he was hardly about to tell her about what had been going on. Sure, she didn't have the fish-lips of that Sam kid, but she blabbed about everything. If he ever got out of there his reputation would be shot; he'd be as well shaving his own Mohawk this time.

"So, I'm like you're dirty little secret?" he queried instead, with a skeptical raise of the eyebrow.

She kept her arms folded and remained standing on the other side of the table, her cool gaze never wavering.

The more he thought about it, the more he figured this could play out quite nicely to his advantage.

A smile crossed his lips and he nodded. "Alright, I can be down with that."

He wondered how soon he could request a conjugal.

"As much as I can admit that Sam is a wonderful addition to our ensemble," she began.

She tilted her head and took a breath, steeling herself not so much for what she was about to say, more the reaction it would garner.

"The group would no doubt flourish further if we had you in our numbers," she told him, and then nodded and straightened as if to tell him she'd done her part and that was all he was getting.

A beat passed, and then a fully-fledged grin appeared on his face.

He half-chuckled; immensely pleased with this admission, and from Berry herself? Major result.

He licked his lips and wiggled his eyebrows; she was always so easy to rile. "So, what? This is you admitting that you need me, Berry?"

"No," she drew out the word for emphasis. "This is me putting the needs of Glee above Lima's social and economic safety."

He threw a look at the opposite wall and scoffed; _so_ uptight. He was definitely cashing in on that conjugal visit. Maybe if she wasn't such a frigid bitch, she'd be more fun.

Of course, then his mind went instantly to the image of him banging her against the table that was currently between him. Between the short skirt and tight sweater combo she was sporting and the fact he'd been locked up with only _dudes _as company; the picture was exceptionally vivid. And there was no mistaking the look on her face; girl was absolutely loving it.

No doubt in his mind, he'd definitely loosen her up. Everyone was more fun once they'd had a slice of Puckalicious.

"What I'm doing could have a detrimental effect on our community, you know," he heard her say.

Apparently he'd zoned out, but he could recognize the Berry speech-mode a mile off. He groaned.

Suddenly he wished she'd brought Hummel with her; kid would've taken one look around and swapped with him in a heartbeat. Seriously though, whose wet dream was it supposed to be anyway?

"Puck!" she reprimanded, causing him to practically jump out of his seat. She looked all teacher/librarian-esque he couldn't help but smirk. So that wasn't part of the fantasy, but he'd always been good at improv. "You shouldn't be taking this so lightly."

"Nah, I get it," he assured her easily. "Winning Nationals is more important than all that."

She shifted in her place, and it made him grin even more. She always hated when he called her out on her shit.

He was feeling pretty smug, so he stuck his tongue out between his teeth and watched her recoil at the action.

"And you need me if you're going to win."

She shifted in her place, and then she jutted her chin out and smarmily told him. "No, you need _me_ if you want to get out of here."

He scowled. Prissy bitch.

She pulled out the chair from under the table and primly sat down; making sure to draw herself as close as possible when she remembered the company she was currently keeping. He tried to sneak a peek at the best of times; she could only imagine how being confined in close quarters with all male neighbors would have exacerbated this already _glowing _quality of his.

"Now," she addressed, placing her clasped hands on the desk and leaning forward, her face brimming with excitement. "This is what you're going to do ... "

.

"I'm not a complete idiot," he refuted, when she'd finally finished informing him of her master plan that would enable him to jump ship from his current Hellhole and get back to stalking the halls of McKinley. "You know how many richies use that ATM?"

She raised an eyebrow and hoped her expression alone said: _please, enlighten me_.

He didn't continue with the point, and she felt the need to tell him that that was not actually a rhetorical question; he was supposed to provide her with an answer.

Instead he looked immensely proud of himself, as he smacked his lips together and said, "I did my homework."

She mildly pondered the notion of him actually staking out the place to conduct his research; admittedly, she thought that would be somewhat thrilling. She could don her black cat-suit and she was sure he could provide a balaclava; a jolt of exhilaration ran through her at the idea.

Almost immediately she collected herself and her thoughts returned to how he'd achieved his consensus on the convenience store foot-traffic and their economic status. And then she remembered to whom she was speaking, and realized that his _homework_ was likely just from seeing the occasional men and women in suits or the like on his daily trips to get dip or slushie.

She hated to admit she was a little disappointed; imagining he'd carried out surveillance like some sort of ninja was far more entertaining a thought.

"And yet you attempted to execute a plan with glaringly obvious flaws," she returned, and then stared him down until his exterior show of pride subsided somewhat. "Hence the reason _you got caught_."

"So, what you're saying is, next time I need a point-man, you'll be it?" was his response; his spirits obviously not dampened enough.

"Woman," she automatically corrected and had enough grace not to look offended. "And no."

She blew out a sigh in exasperation; he was exhausting sometimes. That was not necessarily a good thing, and she would not be mentioning anything of that kind to him. He'd likely take it as an innuendo; his mind was like a sexual cesspool.

Taking a deep breath and plastering a smile on her face, she clasped her hands together once more and restarted, "What I'm saying, _Noah_."

He frowned at the way she said his name, and she smiled; good, it might do him well to actually appreciate that she meant business.

"Is that next time you have the ridiculous notion that you can somehow single-handedly pull off a bank robbery, in broad daylight I might add, via sheer brute force and not much else – that you refrain from doing so," she told him, and nodded when she'd finished.

He didn't reciprocate the move and she rolled her eyes.

"Or at the very least, call me," she instructed, and huffed as she threw a glare over to the opposite wall. "So I can attempt to talk some sense into you."

"So you're telling me you'd blow off a snatch-and-grab if I offered it up to you?" he returned.

She stayed silent. Un-_freakin'_-believable.

"So, I won't get a private viewing of the cat-suit?" was his next question.

She took a deep breath, and tried not to work her jaw; she didn't need to damage her teeth just because he was pretending he hadn't listened to a word she'd said and was attempting to push all her buttons. She was above that sort of childish behavior, thank you very much.

He shook his head. "Well, that blows."

She turned back to face him, intent on giving him another piece of her mind; informing him that the way he continually objectified her was _not_ in any way appropriate.

And then she saw something flicker in his eyes; watched the clearing emerge from the dense of the forest.

She knew he was a boy who put up numerous fronts; she'd seen a different side of him, and she knew it was real. She wasn't naïve enough to think that she was the _only_ one he'd shown his inner self to, but she was definitely part of an elite few. It made her rethink her strategy; there was another angle that needed to be played, for both their sakes.

A slow smile crept along her lips and she threw him a coy look. "Maybe next Halloween."

He sat forward, a leering smirk on his face, and licked his lips, looking her up and down appreciatively.

"If you're not in jail."

His expression instantly fell and his shoulders deflated; and there was that look again.

She should have felt disgusted at herself; she'd practically promised him a private sex-show, the way his mind was sure to take it. However, needs must, and they needed him to win. And besides, if the rumors were even half-true, she was sure it wouldn't be the _worst _experience in the world.

After all, anyone who could get away with calling themselves Puckmaster Flash whenever Glee club did anything remotely hip-hop-related, had to have something rather substantial to contend with.

"You got yourself a deal, Berry."

He grinned at her, and after a few moments, she found herself smiling back.

Well, at least he'd agreed to give her a year to prepare herself; that was, if things went according to plan.

.

**_The End._**

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A/N: I was having major issues deciding on a title and then I found this definition for one idea: "Social planning is a process that helps communities identify strengths and weaknesses and determine ways to improve the quality of life in the community." (type 'social planning' into google and it's taken from the first website that comes up) – sorta solidified its standing, since I figured it fit quite well, no? Well, at least with how Rachel would likely describe her actions/the situation I reckon lol

Thanks for reading, hope you liked it – please let me know what you think :)  
Steph  
xxx


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